


anger

by janboy



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janboy/pseuds/janboy
Summary: a disagreement between pantheon and leona quickly spirals out of hand.





	anger

**Author's Note:**

> another old lore centered pantheon x leona piece

“This winter will be harsh.”

“I know.”

“Will ou-” Leona coughed, she looked over her shoulder at the slowly closing gate behind them, “-your people be prepared?”

Pantheon kept his head forward. Her slip of tongue was caught, as was the pang he felt from her correction. He swallowed it though, he made no indication of acknowledging or regarding the slip. 

“The Rakkor will be fine.”

Outside the gates of the main Rakkor camp, there were a number of constructed sandpits and rings. Some of the longer, rectangular pits, were dug into the ground a handful of feet and lined with wooden walls. The sand-rings were smaller and above ground, used primarily for wrestling and hand-to-hand combat. Stepping out of the ring was an automatic loss. As the pair of them walked through the area, Pantheon couldn’t help but recall his years growing up in these pits. Fighting against the boys and girls he was growing up with, knowing that fate would have it so that at 16, one of them would be chosen to be his opponent during the Rite of Kor. Knowing that either he would die at one of their hands, or he would have to take his first life. 

In the distance ahead of them was the path which began the journey towards the summit. From the corner of his eye, though, Pantheon could see Leona looking over the grounds as well. She had grown up on them too. But, what Pantheon mistook for nostalgia in her face ,was actually a sudden rush of urgency. 

“Pantheon.” Leona stopped at the center of one of the rings. Her sword was sheathed and her shield clasped to her back. Pantheon had taken a few steps before he heard her voice, and he turned to see her standing with both hands on her hips. 

“I’ve just seen your stores. What your tribe has saved won’t be enough to last until thaw.”

Pantheon knew that this discussion would come. When they were in the camp, he noticed the way Leona had scanned over the food and furs that the Rakkor had saved. But, she had held her tongue then, and he had hoped that the conversation would be saved for another day. But now it seemed that she had just been waiting until it was just the two of them alone. Pantheon let out a loud exhale from his nostrils before he turned and stood before her. 

“You forget the hardiness of the Rakkor. We’ve survived worst winters, with much less.” Pantheon searched her gaze for something, but all he was met with was steel.

“It doesn’t always have to be survival, Pantheon, you can let your people live.”

His jaw clenched. Her voice teetered on the knife’s edge between lecturing and frustration. 

“Do not instruct me on how to lead my people,” he retorted. Pantheon’s voice had dropped considerably, he took a half-step forward and his own hardened gaze was locked with Leona’s. Both piercing, both unblinking. Neither of them had been raised and taught to yield, never to bend. 

“The Solari have excess food from the harvest, let me--”

“No. Never has there been a winter where the Rakkor were dependent on anyone but themselves. And I will not be the first Paragon that breaks that line and asks for aid.”

Leona’s eyes narrowed. Her brows furrowed and a gauntleted hand rose to press a finger firmly against Pantheon’s chest.

“You’ve changed, paragon.” Something slipped into her voice then, something Pantheon hadn’t heard before. Hurt. “You care more about your legacy than the lives of your people.”

His right hand rose. He placed it on Leona’s sternum and he roughly shoved her away from him. Leona let out a startled gasp, but she quickly regained her balance, that second of shock was replaced by a fiery anger of her own. Pantheon stood with his left hand clenched in a tight fist, while his right arm was extended and pointing towards her. 

“Do NOT speak of my devotion to my people! You talk now like you care about the Rakkor when it was YOU who broke the most sacred tradition of our people.”

Leona’s eyes widened to the size of the great star itself. They had never spoken of that day. When Leona was bathed in sunlight and taken to the Solari, she had stopped being a Rakkor and any sense of comfort they had built since children was slowly broken apart and reformed into professional courtesy over the years they spent apart. During the short conversations they had as adults, the event was never brought up. And Pantheon brought it up now, in the most hostile situation imaginable. 

And his rage did not let him stop.

“You spit on our tradition. You defied the elders and you defied our culture,” Pantheon took a step forward towards the stoic Leona, her lips having drawn into a thin line. 

“If you had just killed that boy you could have been preparing for winter with me,” the torrent of anger that filled Pantheon’s voice faltered towards the end of his sentence. “You could have been the Paragon yourself.” 

His anger stalled there, as silence fell like a thin blanket between them. The pressures of the coming winter and the tension between them now finally spoken, boiled with the cold air blowing against them. Leona’s face remained unchanged. Expressionless, save for the crease in her brow as she continued to glare at him. Her silence, her lack of response, her refusal to defend herself or provide justification made Pantheon’s fists clench tighter, and his fingernails dug into the skin of his palms. 

“Don’t speak to me like you’re a Rakkor,” Pantheon whispered, his voice rock and gravel, “you already chose to abandon your true kin.”

The sharp clang of metal crashing into metal rang throughout the air. Stars, a flow of blood, and sand was kicked up in small plumes from staggering footfalls. Leona held her right hand in her left, rolling the fingers before pulling the gauntlet off and tossing it to the ground. The other gauntlet followed suit. Pantheon slowly rose to his full height, his left hand rose to touch his lower lip. Blood flowed from the cut, dripping down his chin and onto the sand. He stared at Leona, and she stared back at him. She didn’t break eye contact as she undid the clasp at her shoulder, her shield fell to the ground behind her. Another click and she discarded her sword as well. 

Pantheon growled and slowly rose his hands to remove his now dented helm. She had punched him, too quickly for him to even react. Pantheon tossed his helmet outside of the sand-ring and he spit the blood out of his mouth. Then, they entered their dance.

Their footsteps mirrored one another. They walked in a slow circle, neither took their eyes of the other. Like two predators circling a sole piece of prey between them, waiting for the other to make a move, or expose an opening. They had sparred like this when they were younger countless times, with sword and spear, as well as with just their hands. But where there used to be a spark and challenging glint in Leona’s eyes, all Pantheon saw now was anger. 

Sand was kicked up again, this time by both of them in a simultaneous charge. Leona went high, and Pantheon went low. At the last second, Pantheon dipped his shoulder mid-sprint and tackled her midsection. His arms wrapped around her waist and Pantheon rose her feet off the ground before slamming her to the ground. She let out a grunt, and Pantheon quickly rose above her, his right hand instinctively raised and fist ready to swing. But then they made eye-contact again, and Pantheon froze. 

She didn’t, though. Leona pushed Pantheon’s other arm off her shoulder and she swung at him again. Her fist collided with his cheek, as did the knee which she drove into his stomach. Pantheon gasped, and Leona pushed him off before rolling back to her feet. Another stream of blood slid down his cheek now, and he rose to face her again. She advanced with her fists raised, and Pantheon caught the quick uppercut she intended to send into his jaw. With one of her arms held, he smashed his elbow into her ribs. From that blow, she finally staggered. 

But in that step back, she grabbed the back of Pantheon’s tunic and hooked her leg around his, and she threw him to the ground. Leona gave no quarter. She quickly straddled his torso before he could get up and began raining down an onslaught of punches towards Pantheon’s face. He got his hands up in time to protect his face, but the power behind each punch still hurt his forearms, while her hooks edged past her defenses and smashed painfully against his ears. Pantheon waited behind his block long enough for Leona to throw another straight punch before angling his whole body to the opposite side, dodging the blow and grabbing her arm with one hand, and wrapping the other around her back and neck. Pantheon’s feet drove into the ground and with a grunt he pushed off and stood hunched over Leona’s back with his arm wrapped around her neck and the other pushing against the back of her head, further into the chokehold. 

She struggled, like a lion against its chains. She drove her elbow into Pantheon’s side once, twice, a third time, still he held the chokehold but his feet tripped and he fell onto his back with Leona ontop of him. He increased the pressure in the hold, and he heard Leona let out a strangled gasp. He had put Rakkor to sleep in half the time, and here, Leona still struggled with full force. But when he heard her let out a weaker, gasping breath, he thought her strength was finally waning.

Then she swung her head back at him with full force, and the crown of her head collided with his nose. Blood and pain seared through Pantheon’s head, and Leona hit him again before his grip relinquished and he pushed her off of him. 

This was the pause. They both laid on the sand, only a foot or so distance between them, both with their heads and bodies facing opposite directions, back towards one another. Leona gingerly pressed a hand to her throat, recovering her breath and trying to ignore the aching pains that filled her torso. While Pantheon pressed a hand to his face. When he rose the hand before his eyes, it was completely covered in crimson. Trails of blood down from his nose and cheek, painting his skin in red spiderwebs before dripping onto the sand behind his head. Pantheon pressed his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and with a stifled shout he pushed the bones back into place. The crack almost made Leona look back towards him, but still she remained turned away.

Slowly, a bear rising from his slumber, Pantheon pushed off of the ground and got to his knees. The scenery around them remained unchanged. The trees swayed gently in the wind, the sun well on its way to the horizon, clouds painted a grey filter on Targon. Pantheon brought his gaze down, and he stared at Leona’s sword and shield, piled on one another at the edge of the ring. Painfully, he got to his feet and picked up both. 

The weight of Leona’s shield surprised him. It was larger than his own, wider, but she carried it in hand and upon her back as though it was weightless. An exhausted sigh slipped from between his lips, and he brought the two pieces to Leona’s seated form. Her hand rose, but it didn’t close around her items. Instead, she wrapped her hand around Pantheon’s wrist.

“Leave them.” She said, her voice soft.

Pantheon lowered her sword and shield and placed it to his other side, and with Leona’s hand guiding him, he descended to sit down beside her. He heard her sigh, and she tilted her head to rest it against his shoulder. Pantheon draped that arm around her shoulder, and leant his head against hers. 

From there, bloodied, bruised, and exhausted, they watched the sun descend behind the horizon and bring the soft darkness of dusk.


End file.
